September 14 2013 0954
It happened a few days ago now. Kat came into the house and made an offer I
could not refuse, literally. “I have to
ask you something and I don’t want you to say no.” As an early birthday present or just because
she is nice she took me for a pedicure.
Krysi went with us or should I say I
went with them on one of their friend rituals.
Krysi is always a bundle of laughs and it is hard not to like her view
on life. Kat’s humorous personality
always comes out when Krysi is around.
It was exactly what I needed. I
was not having a good day and a few laughs with a couple great people were
excellent medicine. Oh! And then there was
the pedicure.
I am pretty sure I had the fasted
pedicure lady in the place. I am not
saying she did not do a good job. I am
saying she was fast with the French manicure.
It felt nice to have my diabetic feet really clean and as smooth as a
baby’s bottom. I still look down at the
white tips of my toenails and smile.
However, the message chair was wonderful.
I just kept pushing buttons next to
these little diagrams that meant very little to me and then waited for the
chair to do its magic. My neck had been
hurting for weeks. An old injury had
been aggravated to the point it hurt to move my arms, my arms had been falling
asleep, and I wondered if some of the constant headache wasn’t part of the
problem. This chair did more than just
my neck it relaxed my entire body.
A good back message is the best
thing in this world for relaxation. It
can be sensual and sexual and it can be therapeutic, but either way it is
relaxing. I wanted to bring the chair
and the small Styrofoam pieces they placed to keep my toes apart.
Yes, you read what I said. As the first one done after receiving
treatment from the fastest nail painter in the west I was given very thin
pretend flip flops and toe separators.
It felt so nice to have to have my toes separated. For years now I have had what would be my
ring toe trying to hide under my middle toe.
Apparently it is a shy toe.
So, I sat at the front with my fancy
flip flops enjoying my separated toes and waiting for the others to finish and
I think maybe for my toenails to dry when the purple toenails walked through
the door. It wasn’t the color
purple. They were a medium purple. They were not pastel and they were not
gothic. It was a nice purple. I just did not expect to see what was
attached to them.
It was a gentleman and what made me
look up was the stench that entered before him.
This man weighing in at about 400lbs needed a bath. He wore a grey wife beater (I could not tell
if it had stains on it because he was leaning across the counter) and a pair of
sweats that had been cut into shorts.
One leg was longer than the other, but they were both way to short to
hide the cottage cheese thighs. He was
leaning on the counter when I started breathing through my mouth because of the
smell, but he looked to be over six feet tall.
This large smelly man with purple
toenails had come in to see if his middle fingernail on his right hand could be
fixed. It seems it had been damaged and
cracked. I wonder what he was doing that
it broke. Was the button on his remote
control hard to push? It did not appear
as though his fingernails were painted.
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